Today Is My Birthday, Not June 17 - Poem by Bernard Henrie
is upside down and drunk
on three ounces of champagne.
The coffee table littered
with travel brochures,
Algeciras, Spain. The Gibraltar
gap to Casablanca.
I will travel alone once more,
but not on June 15 as the card
from my office says.
I will mount a canvas travel
chair on a clipper boat's deck,
a Florentine iris closed over
the empty disc of my heart.
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